


Regent's Park

by lmeden



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Fuck professional.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regent's Park

**Author's Note:**

> For the wonderful pushdragon - I only hope she can forgive me for taking so long with this.

“This is completely unprofessional.” He tugged at Eames’ cravat, impatient until the knot slipped and the fabric slid from around his neck. Arthur tossed it to the floor.

“Fuck professional,” Eames said, his eyes dark, intense, glittering in the candlelight, and kicked the door shut with his foot.

Arthur turned away from him and walked to the bed; it was made up all in silk and brocade, and heavy curtains hung from its posts and immersed it in darkness. Eames stepped up behind him and crowded him close against the mattress, fingers tugging at the buttons of Arthur’s tight jacket. Arthur pressed back with his body, grinding against Eames, and simultaneously reached out, gripping a bedpost as Eames worked on his clothes; as he finished, Arthur slipped away.

He crawled onto the bed on his knees, letting Eames’ grip on his jacket pull it off of him. He turned over and unbuttoned his cuffs with a deft movement, and pushed himself farther onto the bed with his heels. The mud on his knee-high boots smeared into the fabric. His pants were tight and thin, displaying his arousal. He reached up and pulled at the lacing on his shirt.

Eames tossed Arthur’s coat onto the floor and climbed onto the bed. He laid a hand on Arthur’s stomach, shoving him down. Crawling alongside Arthur slowly, Eames bent and kissed him, hungry. Arthur opened his mouth, arching up to touch Eames, and letting Eames’ weight bear him down into the thick bedding.

Arthur reached out as they kissed, fingers trailing over the texture of Eames’ waistcoat. When he felt the soft linen of his shirt peeking from underneath, he slowed his touch and pressed harder at Eames’ waist, teasing the delicate muscles above his erection, keeping that small but torturous distance between Eames’ hips and Arthur’s.

The kiss grew vicious as Eames bit down on Arthur’s bottom lip, drawing a hiss and twist of his hips, and Eames rolled his hips downward, pressing his dick to Arthur’s dick and caging Arthur’s hand between them. Arthur’s mouth fell open at the sensation, the heat at his fingertips, and arousal flooded tingling through him.

He reached up with his other hand, feeling blindly for Eames’ head and burrowing his hand in the soft hair at the base of his neck. He allowed himself a moment to feel, hips thrusting slowly against Eames’, the palm of his other hand against Eames’ hot, hard dick. He loved how Eames could do this to him, draw his lust up to the surface and drive him half crazy. He smiled as they kissed, and Eames licked his bruised lip.

Then he pulled his eyes open and yanked Eames away. For a moment, Eames appeared wholly debauched; his bruised, slick lips glistened in the candlelight and his mouth gaped, searching for what Arthur had taken away. His eyes snapped open, sharp and intense, and Arthur let him see his smile, mocking and challenging.

Eames didn’t pause for an instant. He used Arthur’s grip for leverage, reaching under Arthur and pulling him up and flush against him. Their breath mingled, and Arthur felt his dick pressed up against Eames’ thigh. The pressure made him dizzy and he swallowed, staring steadily into Eames’ gaze. Eames smiled, and let Arthur go.

He tried to catch himself on his elbows, but was an instant too slow and gasped as his head hit the mattress. Eames shifted back, giving Arthur room; he reached up and swiftly undid the buttons of his waistcoat and tossed it to the floor, then pulled his shirt over his head and sent that flying. He turned his head to watch Arthur, sidelong.

Darkness pooled and wrapped around his body, defining and disguising his muscles in turn as he moved, making him seem a tiger, all golden firelight and grey shadow. Arthur turned and crawled up the bed. At the head, he turned and found Eames just behind him; he placed a hand on Arthur’s hip and with a sudden movement flipped him. A pillow caught Arthur’s head as he fell and he looked up at Eames. He let his legs fall open, and he braced his boot-clad feet in the rumpled bed coverings.

Eames still had his own pants and boots on, and he moved on his knees into the spread of Arthur’s legs. He lifted Arthur’s shirt. He leaned over Arthur, his breath hot and distracting on Arthur’s chest. Arthur sighed and let his eyelids sag.

Eames licked a stripe up his stomach and he arched, hands fisting in the blankets, and a thick moan escaped his throat. Arthur wanted to move, to help Eames touch him, but he didn’t want to interrupt that mouth so focused on the muscles of his abdomen, which left chill patches of wetness and stinging bite marks behind, sending sensation coursing through him.

Eames’ hand slipped into the front of Arthur’s pants, its back pressing against his dick so that Arthur thrust against it, desperate for more sensation. Eames didn’t stroke him, though. His hand moved lower, nails skirting across Arthur’s tight balls and drawing a whine from the back of his throat.

He panted, fighting for control, reached up with his eyes closed for Eames’ hair. Eames’ teeth closed around Arthur’s nipple and he turned his head to the side, pressing into the pillow.

Eames’ finger ghosted against his hole and Arthur stretched, opening his legs as far as possible to allow Eames more access, pushing down to slip Eames’ fingers inside.

Eames’ hand shifted, fingers flexing between Arthur’s cheeks, and he felt something inside him coil and ready. The muscles in his thighs tightened and he hitched his hips, pushing downward, and pressing the tips of Eames’ finger against, and then inside his hole.

“Ah,” he sighed, his voice throaty and raw. Eames chuckled against his chest, and Arthur’s hands found the line of his jaw, reaching to cradle it close as he arched and gasped and came.


End file.
